Chapter 31

A special train from Southampton had just steamed into Waterloo
with the passengers from the Royal Mail steamer Ophir. Little
groups of sunburnt men were greeting old friends upon the platform,
surrounded by piles of luggage, canvas trunks and steamer chairs.
The demand for hansoms was brisk, cab after cab heavily loaded was
rolling out of the yard. There were grizzled men and men of fair
complexion, men in white helmets and puggarees, and men in silk
hats. All sorts were represented there, from the successful diamond
digger who was spasmodically embracing a lady in black jet of
distinctly Jewish proclivities, to a sporting lord who had been
killing lions. For a few minutes the platforms were given over
altogether to a sort of pleasurable confusion, a vivid scene, full
of colour and human interest. Then the people thinned away, and,
very nearly last of all, a wizened-looking, grey-headed man,
carrying a black bag and a parcel, left the platform with hesitating
footsteps and turned towards the bridge. He was followed almost
immediately by Hiram Da Souza, who, curiously enough, seemed to have
been on the platform when the train came in and to have been much
interested in this shabby, lonely old man, who carried himself like
a waif stranded in an unknown land. Da Souza was gorgeous in frock
coat and silk hat, a carnation in his buttonhole, a diamond in his
black satin tie, yet he was not altogether happy. This little man
hobbling along in front represented fate to him. On the platform at
Waterloo he had heard him timidly ask a bystander the way to the
offices of the Bekwando Land and Gold Exploration Company, Limited.
If ever he got there, what would be the price of Bekwando shares on
the morrow?

On the bridge Da Souza saw him accost a policeman, and brushing
close by, heard him ask the same question. The man shook his head,
but pointed eastwards.

"I can't say exactly, sir, but somewhere in the City, for certain,"
he answered. "I should make for the Bank of England, a penny 'bus
along that way will take you - and ask again there."

The old man nodded his thanks and stepped along Da Souza felt that
his time had come. He accosted him with an urbane smile.

"Excuse me," he said, "but I think I heard you ask for the offices
of the Bekwando Land Company."

The old man looked up eagerly. "If you can direct me there, sir,"
he said, "I shall be greatly obliged."

"I can do so," Da Souza said, falling into step, "and will with
pleasure. I am going that way myself. I hope," he continued in a
tone of kindly concern, "that you are not a shareholder in the
Company."

The old man dropped his bag with a clatter upon the pavement, and
his lips moved for a moment without any speech coming from them.
Da Souza picked up the bag and devoutly hoped that none of his City
friends were in the way.

"I don't exactly know about being a shareholder," the old man said
nervously, "but I've certainly something to do with it. I am, or
should have been, joint vendor. The Company is wealthy, is it not?"

Da Souza changed the bag into his other hand and thrust his arm
through his companion's.

" You haven't seen the papers lately, have you?"

"No! I've just landed - to-day - from Africa!"

"Then I'm sorry to say there's some bad news for you," Da Souza
said. "The Bekwando Land and Gold Company has gone into liquidation
- smashed up altogether. They say that all the directors and the
vendor will be arrested. It seems to have been a gigantic swindle."

Monty had become a dead weight upon his arm. They were in the
Strand now, and he pushed open the swing-door of a public-house,
and made his way into the private bar. When Monty opened his eyes
he was on a cushioned seat, and before him was a tumbler of brandy
half empty. He stared round him wildly. His lips were moist and
the old craving was hot upon him. What did it mean? After all he
had broken his vow, then! Had he not sworn to touch nothing until
he had found his little girl and his fortune? yet the fire of
spirits was in his veins and the craving was tearing him to pieces.
Then he remembered! There was no fortune, no little girl! His
dreams were all shattered, the last effort of his life had been in
vain. He caught hold of the tumbler with fingers that shook as
though an ague were upon him, lifted it to his lips and drank.
Then there came the old blankness, and he saw nothing but what
seemed to him the face of a satyr - dark and evil - mocking him
through the shadows which had surely fallen now for ever. Da Souza
lifted him up and conveyed him carefully to a four-wheel cab.

* * * * *

An hour afterwards Da Souza, with a grin of content upon his
unshapely mouth, exchanged his frock coat for a gaudy smoking-jacket,
and, with a freshly-lit cigar in his mouth, took up the letters
which had arrived by the evening post. Seeing amongst them one with
an African stamp he tore it open hastily, and read: -

"MY DEAR HIRAM, - You was in luck now or never, if you really want
to stop that half -witted creature from doing mischief in London.
I sometimes think, my brother, that you would do better to give me
even more of your confidence. You are a very clever man, but you
do keep yourself so secret. If I too were not clever, how would I
know to send you this news, how would I know that it will make you
glad? But there, you will go your way. I know it!

"Now for the news! Monty, as I cabled (I send the bill) has gone
secretly to London. Since Scarlett Trent found our Hausa friend
and the rum flask, there have been no means of getting liquor to
him, so I suppose he has very near regained his senses, anyhow he
shipped off very cunning, not even Missionary Walsh knowing, but
he made a very big mistake, the news of which I send to you knowing
it will be good. Hiram, he stole the money to pay for his passage
from the missionary's cash-box! All one day he stood under a tree
looking out to sea, and a steamer from Capetown called, and when he
heard the whistle and saw the surf boats he seemed to wake up. He
walked up and down restlessly for a long time, muttering to himself.
Mrs. Walsh came out to him and he was still staring at the steamer.
She told him to come in out of the sun, which was very hot, but he
shook his head. 'She's calling me,' he kept on saying, 'calling
me!' She heard him in the room where the money was and then saw no
more of him. But others saw him running to the shore, and he paid
to be taken out to the steamer. They wouldn't take him on at first,
because he hadn't secured a passage, but he laid down and wouldn't
move. So, as he had the money, they took him, and when I heard I
cabled to you. But what harm can he do, for you are his master?
He is a thief and you know it. Surely you can do with him what you
will.

"Trent was here yesterday and heard for the first time of his flight.
How he took it I cannot tell you, for I was not the one to tell him,
but this I know for a fact. He cabled to Capetown offering 100 pounds
if the Star Line steamer leaving to-morrow would call for him here.
Hiram, he is a great man, this Trent. I hate him, for he has spoilt
much trade for me, and he treats me as though I were the dirt under
his feet, but never a man before who has set foot upon the Coast
could have done what he has done. Without soldiers he has beaten
the Bekwando natives, and made them even work for him. He has
stirred the whole place here into a state of fever! A thousand men
are working upon his road and sinking shafts upon the Bekwando hills.
Gold is already coming down, nuggets of it, and he is opening a
depot to buy all the mahogany and ivory in the country. He spends
money like water, he never rests, what he says must be done is done!
The authorities are afraid of him, but day by day they become more
civil! The Agent here called him once an adventurer, and threatened
him with arrest for his fighting with the Bekwandos. Now they go
to him cap in hand, for they know that he will be a great power in
this country. And Hiram, my brother, you have not given me your
trust though I speak to you so openly, but here is the advice of a
brother, for blood is blood, and I would have you make monies.
Don't you put yourself against Trent. Be on his side, for his is
the winning side. I don't know what you got in your head about that
poor scarecrow Monty, but I tell you, Hiram, Trent is the man to
back right through. He has the knack of success, and he is a genius.
My! he's a great man, and he's a king out here. You be on his side,
Hiram, and you're all right.

"Now goodbye, but send me the money for the cable when you write,
and remember - Monty is a thief and Trent is the man to back, which
reminds me that Trent repaid to Missionary Walsh all the money which
Monty took, which it seems was left with Walsh by him for Monty's
keep. But Monty does not know that, so you have the string to make
him dance.
"Which comes from your brother
"SAMUEL.

"P.S. - Do not forget the small account for disbursements."

Da Souza folded up the letter, and a look of peace shone in his face.
Presently he climbed the stairs to a little back-room and noiselessly
unlocked the door. Monty, with pale face and bloodshot eyes, was
walking up and down, mumbling to himself. He addressed Da Souza
eagerly.

"I think I will go away now," he said. "I am very much obliged to
you for looking after me."

Da Souza gazed at him with well-affected gravity. "One moment
first," he said, "didn't I understand you that you had just come
from Africa?"

Monty nodded.

"The Gold Coast?"

Monty nodded again, but with less confidence.

"By any chance - were you called Monty there?"

Monty turned ghastly pale. Surely his last sin had not found him
out. He was silent, but there was no need for speech. Da Souza
motioned him to sit down.

"I am very sorry," he said, "of course it's true. The police have
been here."

"The police!" Monty moaned.

Da Souza nodded. Benevolence was so rare a part for him to play,
that he rather enjoyed it.

"Don't be scared," he said. "Yes, your description is out, and you
are wanted for stealing a few pounds from a man named Walsh. Never
mind. I won't give you up. You shall lie snug here for a few days!"

Monty fell on his knees. "You won't let any one know that I am
here!" he pleaded.

"Not I," Da Souza answered fervently.

Monty rose to his feet, his face full of dumb misery.

"Now," he muttered, "I shall never see her - never - never - never!"

There was a bottle half full of spirits upon the table and a tumbler
as yet unused. A gleam flashed in his eyes. He filled the tumbler
and raised it to his lips. Da Souza watched him curiously with the
benevolent smile still upon his face.